


OF POETRY AND WINE

by Joeyrumlow



Category: Marvel AU - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Love Poems, Moonlight, Professor Loki (Marvel), Reader is also a Professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joeyrumlow/pseuds/Joeyrumlow
Summary: Your long time friend Loki invites you to a retreat. And surprisingly enough, it has the traditional romance and moonlight and serenades.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	OF POETRY AND WINE

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Tom Hiddleston reading poetry and I'm sorry if Loki appears a little OOC. He's more like Tom (taking notes from my imagination about him) so I placed the Tom/Reader tag as well.

The moon shone with a brilliant fire of silver, bestowing its luminous touches upon the susurrus leaves. Dappled shadows fell upon your features as you walked with him under them, feet padding in the warm grass, the breeze whispering soft melodies and the crickets following it with a tune. 

"I am indebted to you for inviting me Loki," you said as you excitedly ran your eyes around the ethereal grounds, "This is truly magnificent!"

"I'm glad you like it," came his quiet and sincere reply. 

"I've always wanted to take a walk in the moonlight in a quaint place like this," you spoke rapturously, simply enchanted. 

"One of your many romantic fancies eh?" his soft laughter rolled like warm whisky. 

"Don't make fun!" you playfully chided him, "And besides, you have no right Mr. Shakespeare."

He shook his head as you came back to the sward where you had spread your blanket earlier, the picnic basket sitting demurely in the middle. Your spot commanded a view of the vale below that was dotted with clusters of trees neatly arranged, strewn also with a ribbon of water, clinquant and beautiful beneath the moon. 

"Now all we need is a serenade," you teased as you both sat down. 

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound," he suddenly put a hand to his heart with dramatic rigour, diving at the cheese and grapes with the other. 

"O Romeo, Romeo, leave the cheese and proceed farther Romeo," you complimented with a forlorn sigh which elicited a hearty laugh from him. 

"Alright, alright." He swallowed and got up, pacing the length of the blanket.  
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" He got down on one knee before you and then went on,  
"It is the east, and Y/N is the sun."

"Well done dear Romeo," you said as you took out the glasses and the wine, pouring a generous finger into each, "But it's going to need a lot more than that to win Y/N over." 

He sat back down and taking a glass from you, articulated after a long draught, "I know you're a tough nut to crack."

"Of course, you're already regretting your decision of inviting me instead of that pretty new teacher eh? She would've been better company, wouldn't she sir?" you tried to sound nonchalant but the sudden bitterness in your heart loudly made itself heard. 

"I like it when you're jealous. It's rather endearing," he ejaculated, sitting back a little with a smirk. 

"I'm not jealous!" you retorted, downing the contents of your glass, conscious of the colour rising to your cheeks. His laughter rose to touch the lighted skies as you huffed in annoyance. 

"I love thee, I love but thee,  
With a love that shall not die  
Till the sun grows cold,  
And the stars are old,  
And the leaves of the Judgment Book Unfold!" he suddenly burst forth and bowed, proffering a hand. 

You rolled your eyes at his shenanigans but nonetheless slipped your hand in his and let him pull you up. You were flush against him, his hands encircling your waist and caging you. His inebriating smell immediately greeted you, reminding you of the earth and the trees in the wake of an April shower, of tea in the early mornings and books with curled and yellowed leaves. 

Your countenance flared and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. Despite knowing him for years, you shared a peculiar relationship with your 'Loki'. It danced around friendship for the most part but you always felt the presence of something more in it, even though you never dared to acknowledge it. And then there were addresses such as these and the occasional gusts of his smooth and pretty ostentatious poems that he dedicated to you, which had more effect upon you than you let on. But you were sensible enough to not attach any meaning to it; you had done all you could to avoid making a romantic and sentimental fool of yourself. 

But here under the moon's silver bower, he was looking at you with a tenderness you had never perceived before and try as you might to overlook your own feelings, you could not ignore the emotion so apparent in his eyes. They drew you on and dispelled your entire being, scattering your soul into the ceaseless stretches of the universe. 

"You've always been dismissive of my declarations but I will not give you that chance today," he drawled, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. 

"If you're talking about those dreary poems, then I'll pass," you managed to say without betraying your nerves, even cocking a jaunty smile. 

But he did not pull away as you had expected him to. Instead, he clasped you more and his face was dangerously close, his warm breath mingled with the bouquet of wine, fanning yours. 

"I am serious," he breathed, "and I meant every word I said, even then, even now."

He pulled back but he did not relinquish his hold on you. Your heavy breathing transcended the stillness of the night as the wind indolently ran its fingers around your unified bodies. He gently touched your cheek with the back of his hand and spoke in a whisper, "Tell me what lies in your heart for me, just this once." He paused and perused your countenance, the flicker of anguish burning in his eyes, "If you deny me, I will apologise and lock my heart away, never to open it before you again. We can then go back to being whatever we were. But first, answer this and answer it truly, whether we won't be deceiving each other by doing so, like we've been doing for all these years?" 

The moon cast furtive glances upon your still figures stood as ancient relics of forgotten paramours in longing entwined, the breeze brushing your marble tainted brows. The wine that lay abandoned stained the blanket with damask and liquorice, wetting the grass underneath in its treacly richness. What was this strangely familiar feeling? You could have stayed like this for all eternity, feeling nothing but the bliss of his arms around you. And this was not a figment of your imagination which would disappear as soon as the clock struck an hour or the tea boiled over. He was here with you and it was all real. 

You closed your eyes. He was right. Deep down, you knew the sort of life you would lead if you deliberately chose to walk this path of falsity. It would be a strange and purposeless existence spent in rueful musings, a mere shadow of the things that used to be. And yet, were you ready to grasp the tendrils of love that you had only regarded from afar, without the least hope of living in its light? Would it be everything you dreamed about or would it be the end of that dream? Could you live and laugh and quarrel and still be the same? 

No. It would never be the same. The dream shattered and you were exposed and vulnerable. But you were no longer afraid. Because now, you had love. And suddenly, everything became so simple. 

"I love you." It was a statement, a confession, reverberating through the essence of your soul and the beatings of your heart. 

If I was an artist, I would paint two pictures perfectly capturing Loki's countenance before and after you uttered those words, lining every little detail of transition that took place in the latter. How the cruel carvings of uncertainty and fear slowly faded from his face and his eyes softened. But a humble chronicler as myself, I am afraid, will be able to put forth only a commonplace outline of the incandescent happiness that completely washed over him. 

He kissed you with all the fervent longing of these long years but somehow, filling every bit of it with the sweetness of honey. And each kiss was a promise of love, of affection and of unabashed adoration. 

"Some portion of Paradise still is on earth,  
and Eden revives, in the first kiss of love," he murmured against your lips, drawing back a little and lovingly regarding your jubilant smile. 

"I couldn't have hoped for a more rewarding end or beginning, I should rather say, to this escapade," he added with love in his eyes, affectionately pressing his lips to your forehead. 

The two of you swayed to the melody of your hearts, light headed and breathless and warm and happy. 

"I must tell you darling," he softly spoke against your temple, "that I am helplessly in love with you, have been ever since I met you and how fortunate I am to have it returned."

"O that's absolutely true Mr. Shakespeare and I'm happy that you admitted it," you looked up at him, eyes shining with stifled gaiety, "and you will do good to remember it."

"Will I get punished if I forget?" he asked, blinking innocently. 

"Of course," you asserted authoritatively. 

"But there has to be a reward if there's a punishment," he challenged, "and since I never forget, I want to know the manner of it."

You quizzically pretended to ponder and then mischievously broke out,  
"Let us roll all our strength and all  
Our sweetness up into one ball,  
And tear our pleasures with rough strife  
Through the iron gates of life:  
Thus, though we cannot make our sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run."

His eyes widened and he blushed but your mirthful laughter swept him along and he kissed your nose as you fell back into each other's embrace. His heart swelled as he held you, but most importantly, he was glad and glowing and grateful to be with you.

**Author's Note:**

> "He jests at scars... the sun." - Romeo and Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2
> 
> "I love thee... Judgement Book Unfold!" - Bayard Taylor, Bedouin Song
> 
> "Some portion... first kiss of love." - Lord Byron, The First Kiss Of Love
> 
> "Let us roll... make him run." - Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress


End file.
